


Vhenadahl

by anotetofollow



Series: Illustrated Fanfic Commissions [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Elven Alienages, F/M, Fluff, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotetofollow/pseuds/anotetofollow
Summary: Nelaros organises a surprise for Leila Tabris at the Denerim alienage.Illustrated fanfic commission, with art by tumblr user @noctuaalba!Commissioned by commandershakarian - thank you!





	Vhenadahl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commandershakarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandershakarian/gifts).



> A joint commission from me and @noctuaalba for commandershakarian- thanks so much for commissioning us! <3

Leila ran her hand across the rough bark of the vhenadahl. She was convinced that it felt different to any other tree she had encountered in her travels across Ferelden; it was more supple, somehow, more alive. Not even the ironbark trees in the Brecilian Forest had been able to compare to it.

It was possible, of course, that this was simply nostalgia. Longing for the home she had been away from for so long. Even upon her return she had not been able to enjoy the welcome she had anticipated. Loghain and his slavers had seen to that. Only now that the Tevinters were dead and the sick properly healed was she able to truly appreciate a moment of peace in what had once been the only place she had ever known.

True, the Alienage was crowded, and poor, and dangerous compared even to the rougher districts outside their walls. But it was  _ hers _ . This was where she had played with her cousins as a child. This was where her mother had taught her to fight. This was where she had met Nelaros.

She could see him now, standing on the other side of the square. He was speaking to her father. Cyrion looked tired after his ordeal, but happy. It was good to see him looking well. He and Nelaros also seemed to be getting along famously, for which she was deeply grateful.

As she watched them the two men both looked up at her. Nelaros said something to Cyrion that Leila could not hear, then turned and walked towards her.

“Getting along with my father, I see,” she asked once he was within earshot.

Nelaros grinned at her. “Luckily, yes. I didn’t get to speak with him for long the last time I was here. I confess that’s been worrying me almost as much as the Blight has.”

“Fool,” Leila said, reaching out to take her husband’s hand in hers. “What’s to dislike?”

“You’re too kind.” He bent down to kiss her cheek, then straightened up and began to examine the vhenadahl himself. “Your tree is larger than the one we have in Highever. More vital, too. Our  _ hahren _ is not precious about such things.”

“Valendrian was,” Leila said, her voice growing quiet. “He tended the tree himself. Said it reminded us of who we once were.”

“We may still find him.” Nelaros placed his hand on her shoulder. “Arl Eamon has already sent men to look for the slaver’s caravans.”

“I hope so.” Leila felt suddenly tired. She had, perhaps foolishly, imagined that things would be simple once they returned to Denerim with the Grey Warden treaties in hand. Instead it seemed that anything that could go wrong had gone wrong. It would not be long now until they must face Loghain at the Landsmeet. She hoped desperately that their tentative luck would hold that long.

Nelaros was quick to notice his wife’s discomfort. “It’s been a long few months, hasn’t it?” he said, echoing her thoughts. “We’ve barely had a chance to breathe.”

“At least it’s nearly over,” she said, then grimaced. “Or at least I hope it is.”

Nelaros didn’t say anything for a moment. He stared absently at the patterns in the vhenadahl’s bark before speaking. “I’ve had a thought. Will you meet me back here this evening? At sunset?”

“What for?” Leila asked.

“That’s a secret.” A smile broke out across his face.

“Alright then,” she laughed. “Sunset. I think I can manage that.”

“Good.” He leant down to kiss her once more. “I’ll see you later.” With that, he strode back off into the Alienage.

Leila shook her head to herself. She had some errands to run, and a few matters to discuss with her companions… but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take an evening off.

* * *

Leila returned to the Alienage as the sky was turning from blue to a dusky pink. The high walls cast shadows across the open square, and the traders and craftsmen were packing up their stalls for the day. Two children played on the bare earth, and were called inside for dinner as Leila watched.

Nelaros had not arrived yet. Leila sat at the base of the vhenadahl while she waited, fingers tracing patterns in the wood. Before long she spotted her husband walking across the square towards her. He carried a basket upon one arm, and was dressed in simple clothes. She had not seen him look like that since their wedding day.

“What’s all this?” Leila asked, getting to her feet.

“Dinner,” Nelaros said. He pulled back the checkered cloth covering the basket to reveal the food inside; warm bread and preserves, a truckle of cheese covered in wax, roasted legs of some fowl and a few summer apples. There was even a bottle of wine, and what Leila hoped might be the lemon cakes they sold in the market.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said.

“Yes I did.” He unfolded the cloth and laid it down under the vhenadahl’s canopy, then gestured for her to sit. “It occurred to me earlier that we never really had a proper wedding celebration. It’s about time we rectified that, don’t you think?”

“I definitely agree,” she said. “But I am a little underdressed.” She pointed at her own worn armour.

Nelaros sat down next to her. “You look perfect to me.”

They talked as they grazed on their supper - not of the Blight, or the Landsmeet, but of small things. Nelaros told Leila more about his family in Highever, and she regaled him with stories of Adaia’s more daring exploits. He described the smith who had trained him, and told her how he would like to return to his trade once the fighting was through. Leila smiled at that. It was comforting to hear him planning for his future- for their future - as though victory was all but assured. It gave her hope.

Once they had finished eating they settled back against the trunk of the great tree, Leila resting her head on her husband’s chest. A light wind blew through the branches, making a rustling music that cut through the stillness. They traded the wine bottle back in forth in silence, simply content to be there with one another.

Late as they were, Leila would not have wanted her wedding celebrations any other way.


End file.
